


You're not alone

by corrosivegunner



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Doubt, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Doubt, mention of the Winter Palace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:33:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corrosivegunner/pseuds/corrosivegunner
Summary: Cylen Lavellan is doubting his role of Inquisitor while camping out for the night in the Western Approach, including the feeling of emptiness he has from being away from his clan for so long
Relationships: Male Inquisitor/Iron Bull, The Iron Bull/Male Lavellan (Dragon Age)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	You're not alone

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to get myself into writing for fandoms and things like that, so I figured to start off with Dragon Age!  
> I hope you guys enjoy this small fic

Staring at the camp fire, he could really feel how tired he was. Extremely tired, mixing in with all the guilt. Was it even guilt that he felt? Probably. He wasn't sure, he was horrible at feeling, especially dealing with his own. Cylen tended to just push them away and then hide if it all got to overwhelming for him.

He couldn't do that now though. He was Inquisitor.

Yet he couldn't help it.

This was all because of the fucking Winter Palace and all the stupid human politics that were added in.

Cylen ran a gloved hand through his hair. Looking back at it, possibly the decision to allow Celene to die at the hand of her cousin was a bad decision. Sure, he put someone more responsible on the throne, but that didn't stop the gnawing feeling at his chest. Although it could look bad if he didn't feel bad at all for what happened.

Celene's blood may not have stained his hands, but he was sure responsible for her death and not stopping it from happening.

He laughs dryly at himself. Doubting himself is gonna get him nowhere when the decision was done and over with. But fuck, he can't help it. He wasn't the first choice to be Inquisitor. It only so happened by chance when he was sent to spy on the Conclave and so happened to get the anchor. If he hadn't, he'd still be the Keeper's first and living his normal Dalish life.

The mage brings his knees up to his chest and he hugs him, settling his chin on-top his knees as he turns his gaze up to the night sky.

He paid no mind at a new presence that quietly sat down next to him. He left a hand drift down to the necklace he wore under his armor, leaning to the side to set his head on the side of his lover.

Bull put his arm around Cylen. "It's late."

"I know, I'm not tired. Go back to bed," he says softly. The Qunari shakes his head, leaning back on his free hand. "What's on your mind?" He asks. Cylen swallows when he answers, "Did I make the right choice?"

"You did what you had too and there's still someone on the throne," Bull tells him. Cylen doesn't respond, bringing his hand up to take off the glove and stare at the anchor. It throbbed dully. A constant reminder. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, not fully sure of what to say. He's make so many decisions that could've gone differently if he had chose something different.

But he didn't.

And there were plenty of decisions that made people angry with him, his companions, advisors or nobles. But he hadn't regretted those decisions on the spot.

"You're right," Cylen sighs with a nod of his head, dropping his hand. Bull placed a gentle kiss to the Inquisitor's temple. "Let's go to bed."


End file.
